


Winter Sleep

by Shaish



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But I tried to keep it not as angsty as it could have been, Christmas gift, For Me, Gen, Holidays, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor allusion to child abuse, it's Hydra, it's actually pretty fluffy, kay - Freeform, of a sort, present fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That <em>child </em>was created from two of the most dangerous <em>people </em>I <em>know</em>,” Tony says, stopping Steve in his tracks, “Trained by <em>Hydra</em>. We don’t know <em>what </em>she’s capable of, not beyond these vague files, just that she’s <em>dangerous</em>. Don’t let the way she looks fool you.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“People...” she trails off quietly, “I could have been anyone?” </p><p> </p><p>  <i>I could have been anyone and he would’ve done the same?</i></p><p> </p><p>“You’re not,” he answers, simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stringlish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stringlish/gifts).



> This is super super super _SUPER_ super!!! Late. I started it last December for Kay and then WOOSH STUFF HAPPENED and I remembered and picked it back up _this_ December. It's also fairly short for the content, but it had the potential to be REALLY long and I was trying to avoid it being the length of say...wings, or Ghosts, because I'm still trying to get a multitude of other things done BUT this is for _Kay_ , and I didn't want to just chop it all up either. Given that, though, and the fact that I'm not entirely sure how to write children (even with research! I did some Grey!!), I'm not entirely sure how this will read. Or if Kay will like it because it felt short but I was just trying to stick to the fluff because Kay deserves some fluff okay she wanted fluffy fluff. I tried. [/star] Kay only looked over about the first 6 pages? ?? So if there's any typos that's all me and I'm sorry I looked over it like three times but I'm bound to miss something. Sorry in advance!  
> Anyway, HAPPY HOLIDAYS KAAAAAY. <333 SORRY I'M SO SUPER SUPER LAAAATE. Weeps. I hope it's okay.

" _Everyone in position?_ "

" _Copy_."

" _Copy_."

" _Roger_."

" _Roger, Rogers_."

Bucky can practically _feel_ Steve rolling his eyes. 

" _On my mark_ ," Steve continues. 

Bucky shifts slightly behind his scope.

" _Three. Two. One_ ," ends on barely a whisper, and Bucky tracks the shadows moving to enter the warehouse through his scope, keeps an eye out for any movement outside of the team's. It's a few minutes before he hears any sounds of battle and he picks off his share from where he’s at, tracks the various heat signatures and shoots down any that get too close to one of the team and comes in range.

There isn't the sound of any birds shooting up out of any nearby trees at any of his shots. They seem to know better than to come near here.

He hears Steve let out a heavier _grunt_ and shifts his rifle, taking out the man grabbing Steve from behind and freeing Steve of the burden so he can throw off the one at his front.

" _Man, how do you **do** that?_ " Sam asks incredulously.

" _He's a good shot_ ," Clint replies.

" _He is crouched in a tree 30 meters away, at night, and only using night vision-x-ray goggles to see through the building_ ," Sam retorts, " _We should all be vague bodies of specially marked body heat_."

A corner of Bucky's mouth pulls up. "I'd know Steve anywhere."

Steve laughs quietly in his ear and Sam gives an agreeing hum before a harsh _grunt_.

" _Yet another example of the mysterious powers of our star crossed lovers_ ," Stark jokes, " _Have they made a book, movie, or tv show about you guys yet? ‘Star Crossed Lovers’,”_ he adds grandiosely, _“‘A tale of two loves lost in time!’ I'm having JARVIS make a note to call Pepper. The world **needs** it._ "

Clint snorts and Bucky knows Steve’s rolling his eyes again. The other corner of his mouth ticks up with the first.

The sounds of fighting gradually peter out after that, the occasional, " _All clear_ ," filling the silence. 

There aren't even crickets. 

It's been approximately five minutes since the last 'all clear' when he hears Steve say, " _Underground level. Found two large, heavy doors. Stark, come down. I need back up_."

" _Need help with the heavy lifting?_ " Stark jokes.

A minute later Steve says, " _On three. One. Two. **Three**_ -"

There’s a beat of silence and then a sharp inhale.

" _ **What the hell**_-" Stark.

"Steve," Bucky says.

" _What is it?_ " Clint asks.

Bucky waits five seconds before saying more firmly, " _ **Steve**_."

" _Buck_ ," Steve answers, sounding a little choked. Bucky frowns. _"Get down here. There's something you need to see_." 

Bucky doesn't argue, just swings his rifle across his back and hops out of the tree.

" _You're not going to like it_ ," Steve warns, lower. 

But if it’s bad enough that Steve thinks he should know, because Steve won’t keep the secrets from him, then Bucky has to go.

His stomach gives an uncomfortable _roll_.

He meets Clint inside the large, open space of the warehouse's main floor, stepping over bodies as they head for the stairwell that heads down, meeting Sam at the bottom.

The metal doors are hard to miss, ten feet high at the end of a long hall and Bucky can tell they're reinforced just at a glance. There’s vapor slowly trailing out that reminds him of the cryotube, and he forces himself to keep walking. 

There’s computers, large, small, outdated and new, the last forty years collected together like a technologic museum inside, the temperature of the room chilly. None of them are covered in dust.

Steve and Tony are easy to find, even without the soft glow in the dim room to follow like a night light, and when he sees where it's coming from Bucky _freezes_ , becomes vaguely aware that Barton and Wilson have, too. Steve turns to him while Stark messes with a thin podium of controls, but Bucky's eyes are focused on-

It's a cryotube, the only one glowing a soft blue and filled out of a row of ten of them, and there's someth- _someone_ inside-

His feet feel like they move on their own, a distant awareness to it much like when Hydra had him on an extensive, precise, cocktail mix of drugs. Something stops him six feet away and he numbly looks over, sees a gloved hand resting on his right shoulder. His eyes follow it up.

Steve’s mouth opens and closes twice before he clears his throat and manages a rough but quiet, "Buck," and it's almost too much.

He looks from Steve back to the tank-

Then he notices it.

The body is small. Like a _child_. 

His stomach threatens to upend itself and he presses the back of his hand to his mouth, forcing himself to breathe slower through it. Steve squeezes his shoulder and Bucky drags somewhat wide eyes back, and then actually takes in the details: Steve’s own widened eyes and the pinched line of his mouth, the tight lines around his eyes.

Someone clears their throat. They both look.

"There’s a video," Stark says, factual but grim. It takes a moment, but Bucky eventually nods his head, Stark nodding back.

He presses a button.

A large hologram materializes in front of the tube and a man's face appears. He has a long, narrow nose, slicked back white hair and glasses. Bucky doesn’t recognize him.

" _Project 'New Winter' has commenced,"_ the man says, almost like he’s bored, _"The gene splicing was a success this time. Projects one and two have failed due to an imbalance of the gene input. The ratio must be exact: 40% from project 'Winter Soldier', 60% from obstacle 'Captain America'. Gender is currently undecided_."

Steve’s hand grips his shoulder, _hard_ , but they both keep their eyes on the screen.

The image cuts out before another flickers on. The same man.

" _Project New Winter has shown exceptional skill in hand to hand combat, learning, languages, and strategy. We have decided to make the project female for ease of project multiplication if necessary_."

Bucky's stomach rolls again and Steve’s hand grips his shoulder tighter. 

The image flickers to a new one again, the man's face unchanged. 

" _Project Three has been put on hold and in cryo. It exhibited signs of rebellious tendencies and refusal to cooperate. We hope that Project Four will yield more optimal results_."

The screen flickers out and, after a minute, stays that way.

In the end, it's Steve that releases his grip on Bucky and lets go of his shoulder, walking over to the tube and sliding a gloved palm across the glass window. Something in Bucky’s heart freezes when he looks.

Steve stops moving. 

There’s a little girl floating in the tank with five cords, three hooked to her body and two to the breathing mask on her face, held suspended by a metal rack in faint blue liquid in the middle of the viewing window. 

He should have looked first, but below the window it says:

_'N E W _ W I N T E R_

_S U B J E C T _ 03’_

“Guys,” Tony says, looking over the console readings, “It looks like that tube’s on the verge of shut down. We need to move it now if we want a chance of getting her out of there alive.”

Steve looks over at Bucky and they both nod, moving around and soon following Tony’s instructions on how to dismantle it as quickly and safely as possible.

\--

They can’t open the cryotube in the base, for more reasons than their morals. The self sustaining battery is just about out of juice, and it’s not enough power to open the cryotube _and_ keep the occupant alive risk-free. So they unhook it, carefully, with Bucky and Steve helping (the former with hands that go steady when he touches the tube), and get it on the quinjet.

Bucky sits next to Steve and stares at it the whole way.

They get the tube transported to an unoccupied lab in the Tower. Stark calls Banner up via Jarvis and together, after four, tension filled, grueling hours, they get the tube hooked up to a temporary power source. Stark hacks the access codes and the tube angles back a little, the tubes connected filling with liquid as it slowly drains.

Bucky’s fingers curl.

The lid finally _unlatches_ and lifts open once the liquid is finished draining and they all hold their breath.

She stirs, just a slight twitch of the fingers at first, and then her eyes crack open, glance around and land on _them_ and-

Her eyes are Bucky’s blue.

\--

“She can’t be more than eight,” Pepper says from next to Tony, who’s currently going through the files they managed to get on ‘New Winter’ and ‘New Winter - Subject 03’ at the Hydra base.

“Says she has accelerated growth, which isn’t a surprise,” Tony replies, thumb and forefinger cupping his chin while he reads, “So she might be youngerthan she _looks_.” Steve’s mouth flattens a little and his fingers curl. “Says she also has advanced learning capabilities, so she’s probably much smarter for her age, too.” Tony glances at Steve but Steve keeps his eyes on the screen of the room.

She’s sleeping. Or at least Steve thinks she is. Now that her hair’s dry, Steve sees how their DNA merged. It’s a soft brown, but with Steve’s darker tones underneath and his lighter ones highlighting the top, paired withBucky’s blue eyes-

 _God_ , she _is_ theirs.

“How’s the Buckster doing?” Tony asks, pulling Steve out of his thoughts.

“I don’t...think he knowswhat to think,” Steve replies a little hesitantly. Bucky took off almost as soon as her eyes opened briefly the first time, and honestly, Steve can’t blame him. He kind of wants to take off, too, but _one_ of them should be here. “Or maybe has _too much_ to think about.” Tony doesn’t say anything to that, and Steve can practically feel Pepper’s sympathetic gaze.

He taps the room’s intercom.

“Are you awake?” he asks, so soft, only Bucky would be able to hear it.

Her eyes crack open, then open further as she looks up directly into the camera. 

Guess that solves the question of whether she’s got their hearing.

Steve pauses.

“Do you have a name?” he asks, a little louder.

She tilts her chin up, just slightly, looking defiant like _he_ is, and doesn’t say a word.

Steve taps the intercom again to shut it off and sighs, running a hand back through his hair while he thinks. He stares at the holoscreen for a long minute, aware of the eyes glancing over at him every so often, and then turns and heads for the elevator.

“Steve-”

“I can’t just leave a child alone in that damn room,” he cuts Tony off.

“That _child_ was created from two of the most dangerous _people_ I _know_ ,” Tony says, stopping Steve in his tracks, “Trained by _Hydra_. We don’t know _what_ she’s capable of, not beyond these vague files, just that she’s _dangerous_. Don’t let the way she looks fool you.”

Steve sighs, turning to look at him. “She’s still a child, Tony.”

Tony stares at him, long and expressionless, and then rolls his eyes.

“I’m immune to your doe eyes, Rogers,” he says, turning back to the files, “And mostly you’re bleeding heart. They only work on your soviet boyfriend.” Steve’s fingers curl into fists. Tony sighs, conceding the jab and looking back over to him. “ _Fine_ ,” he says, “But at _least_ get the other father as backup before you go in there.” Steve flushes at that, but nods, and heads for the elevator again.

\--

Bucky doesn’t _agree_ , exactly, doesn’t actually say aword, but he follows Steve when Steve heads inside from the roof where Bucky’s been camped out and brooding, into the elevator and all the way down to the floor she’s being kept on. When they get there, Bucky steps to the side of the doorway, out of sight, and Steve glances at him.

Bucky nods slightly and Steve nods back, taking a breath, then taps the button to open the door, walking just inside and leaving it open.

Her eyes are on him, disconcertingly _Bucky_ when he was strictly the Winter Soldier, but there’s something else about them too, something…

“Hi,” Steve says, feeling a little anxious in the silence, “I’m Steve. Do you know who I am?”

It...well. It’s as good a place to start as any.

“Target Priority One,” she responds, flat and clinical but higher pitched in her youth, and his stomach drops. It sounds so _wrong_ to hear that out of someone so young.

“Well...You’re not exactlywrong,” he replies, trying to lighten the mood and trying to think, “You were with Hydra. They don’t like me very much.” Her mouth pinches, just slightly, and he’d miss it if he weren’t looking for it. As it is, he’s watching her with the kind of focus he gave Bucky the first time _he_ came back, can’t help it. “My name is Steve Rogers,” he tries next, “I go by Captain America.” That gets a flicker of _something_ , but he’s not sure what, yet.

They stare at each other for a couple of minutes that feel like _hours_ , and then suddenly she _moves_ , a small, quick blur, and Steve feels Bucky step out of the shadows behind him.

Her bare feet skid to a stop a few feet away and her eyes go wide, huge and blue, and Steve feels…

He wishes things weren’t like this: a child is trying to kill him, one made _from_ him _and_ Bucky, and that Bucky has to use a side of him he’s _still_ adjusting to, to the things that he was made to do with it, to make her _stop_.

“ _Alpha_ ,” she breathes, barely audible, and somehow Steve’s stomach drops further.

He’s not sure what Bucky’s face looks like, but she almost... _cowers,_ slightly- No, not cowers, but crouches a little lower, like defense and submission. 

After just barely a second she eases back up, so Bucky must’ve stopped whatever he was doing, but she’s still poised for attack, so Steve’s not looking away.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he says, and her eyes go disbelieving, even if the rest of her doesn’t react at all. 

She probably had to hide things from Hydra, if she feels them, and part of him is sure she does, _so many things_.

“My name is Steve,” Steve introduces again, and turns slightly towards Bucky, “And this is Bucky. We’re trying to burn Hydra down to the ground.” Her eyes widen a little at that, and suddenly she _does_ look eight.

“You can’t cut off all the heads,” she whispers, barely there, but Steve catches it.

“ _Watch us_ ,” Bucky’s the one to say, low and defiant, and her eyes widen again.

Whatever was left of her stance slowly drops.

\-----

“How are you doing this morning?” Steve asks gently. She’s probably getting tired of it, after four days of him asking. _He_ got tired of it after he woke up from the ice. He doesn’t know what else to _ask_ though, doesn’t know what landmines she might have hidden inside of her and doesn’t want to risk setting any of them off. That and she’s a child. He was never very good with children, never knew what to do or how to handle them.

At least she’s been eating what they give her, warily at first, then more confidently after that first meal. Bucky said it was probably because she was expecting them to poison her. Steve’s throat had tightened a bit.

She watches him closely, at least he thinks it’s closely. She’s hard to read for being _eight_ , at least, that’s what his internet browsing has lead him to think.

Her eyes dart behind him briefly every now and then where Bucky’s leaning back against the wall, arms crossed and eyes focused, but she doesn’t really take her own focus off _him_. 

They’ve already tried doing this separately. She’d been wary of Steve by himself, circled him like a wolf might circle its prey, and had stayed as far away from Bucky as she could possibly get, almost huddled in the corner with her small brows drawn together like she was trying to make sense of him. She might’ve been, given that her…

Steve internally cringes.

 _...programming_ seems to be based off of his own.

Bucky says something quietly in Russian and her eyes dart back up to him, laser focused. Her lower lip slowly shifts out and-

Is she pouting?

She mutters something back, the first thing since that first _day_ , watching him a little warily, and Bucky grumbles quietly, but doesn’t say or do anything in return. When he doesn’t, she relaxes, just slightly. 

It’s a start.

\--

Steve sits down cross legged back towards the door again the next day, watching her watch them. She stays where she is on the far back corner of the bed pressed against the wall. She’s almost...like a feral cat, Steve thinks. It makes his heart ache.

“We brought something for you,” he says. She blinks once, eyes slowly shifting between the two of them. Steve reaches into his pocket, making sure to move slow, and pulls out the iPod Natasha put together, slowly setting it and the headphones down and carefully sliding them across the floor as far away from him and as close to her as he can. “We weren’t sure if you liked music,” he continues, “Or if you’ve heard it, so it’s got a bit of just about everything on it.” Her eyes shift down to it for a long moment and then back up, then back to over his shoulder. She says something short and quick in Russian and Steve glances back to catch Bucky shaking his head where he’s leaned against the wall.

Bucky steps forward, slowly passing Steve and then crouching down, reaching down to press the iPod on and then clicking on a track. He taps the volume button until they can all hear it, just indiscernible beats, and picks up the headphones and slips them on, wincing slightly when they press against his ears.

She watches him closely, then raises her head slightly and looks almost _surprised_ when Bucky actually takes the headphones off, setting them back down and standing before stepping back, back out of Steve’s periphery. Steve picks himself up off the floor after a minute or so and steps back, as well, then follows Bucky out of the room to give her some privacy to check it out, if she wants.

They check on the monitor, though, and after an hour or so, she slowly ventures over to the iPod, carefully lifting the headphones and holding one of the speakers to her ear, head cocked while she listens.

\--

“What does she think of the music?” Stark asks a couple days later, and Steve shrugs, watching her up on the screen (has been watching her maybe _too_ much. Not _creepily_ , just...he’s _amazed_. She’s... _real_ ).

“I think she might like it,” Steve answers a little hesitantly, “I saw her foot tapping to something earlier, just for a moment.” He feels hands on his shoulders and jumps, turning around. Bucky stares back, brow cocked a little and one corner of his mouth tugged up slightly.

“Come on,” he says.

“What?” Steve asks, while Bucky turns him by the shoulders and almost pushes him out of the room, “Why? Where are we going?”

“You’ve been staring at the monitor for too long,” Bucky replies, leaving out the ‘ _again_ ’, gently pushing him into the elevator. It’s not like _Bucky_ doesn’t do the same thing. Though, maybe not quite as much.

“But-” Steve starts.

“No,” Bucky cuts him off, “Our floor, please, Jarvis,” he adds towards the ceiling.

“ _Yes, Bucky_ ,” Jarvies replies. Steve rolls out his shoulders a little and sighs quietly when he feels the tension. Okay, maybe he has been spending too much time watching and not enough time taking care of himself. It’s just-

“She’s-...” he trails off, can’t get it out. Bucky gives him a small, helpless sort of little smile.

“I know,” he replies anyway, voice softer, quieter, and Steve’s own lips curve up back, just as helpless. It fades after a moment.

“I just wish...there was more we could do for her,” Steve admits quietly. The elevator slows to a stop and Bucky takes his hand, leading him out when the doors slide open. 

“We’re doing what we can,” he returns, heading straight for the hall and bedroom, “She’s been with Hydra her whole life, longer than I have, if you don’t count the sleep.” Steve wants to grimace, doesn’t. “Natasha’s going to see her in a few minutes,” he continues after a few moments, tugging Steve over to their bed, “Get out of these clothes.” Steve cocks an eyebrow.

“What? No foreplay?” he teases. Bucky shoves him back and Steve catches himself on his hands, huffing out a breathy laugh.

“I haven’t been able to touch all of you all day,” Bucky says, low and quiet, eyes intense. Steve sits up and pulls his shirt off over his head, dropping it to the floor while Bucky does the same, working on getting his jeans down and off next.

Steve scoots back on the bed in his boxers and Bucky pushes his own pants off, not even wearing any, and crawls onto the bed to follow. Steve lays his head down on the pillow and opens his arms in invitation, and Bucky crawls over him, lowering himself down against and pressing along Steve’s side and laying half on top of his chest, wrapping his arms around him while Steve wraps his arms around Bucky. He presses his lips to the top of Bucky’s head.

It’s quiet for a while, just the sound of their breathing, the feel of Bucky’s ribcage expanding and contracting against his like a beating heart, their bodies pressing together, rising and falling like tides and mountains and all the ancient things of the world.

Steve wants to ask what Bucky thinks, if he thinks she’ll be okay, but he keeps those questions to himself, lets them sink and just focuses on _Bucky_. She’s not the only one who’s still working on finding who she is, and becoming human where it’s been stripped bare to the bone.

_I’ve been, for sometime, looking for someone_

_I need to know now_

_Please tell me who I am_

\--

“Why’d you call me down?” Steve asks as he steps into the room, looking to Stark.

“She threw her first tantrum!” he announces, glancing back briefly before going back to his coding and jerking a thumb towards Natasha.

“What happened?” Steve asks, tightening his fingers on Bucky’s.

“I pushed a little too much, too soon,” she answers, slowing to a stop next to him and looking from him to the monitor, “Told her a story of Russian dolls and she screamed.” Bucky’s shifts slightly. He says something quietly in Russian and she nods slightly. Bucky sighs. 

“What do you think?” Bucky asks. She crosses her arms, focusing.

“Early days Red Room training,” she answers, “Tests and procedures. Tony says her aging is slowing down to the rate of a normal child, but she still developed mentalities that takeyears in months. Hydra tried to take advantage of that and begun her training earlier than the Red Room usually does.” Bucky’s lips flatten and Steve looks back up to the monitor, giving his hand a squeeze.

“What does that mean for her?” he asks quietly. Natasha sighs just as quiet.

“That it was good we found her when we did,” she answers, “They didn’t get very far, but this will still take time. Try exposing her to things that won’t cause her harm and that she doesn’t need to harm, and spend time with her, but let her decide who she is.” She watches for a moment more before turning to go, and Steve watches her leave before looking over to Bucky.

“Well,” he says, raising his eyebrows slightly, “She does need a name. Maybe we could start there?”

Bucky looks back and then shifts his eyes to Stark, then leads Steve out of the room to the elevator to head to hers.

They enter carefully, like they always do, and her eyes dart up, then drop to their hands. 

Oh. This is the first time they’ve shown her public affection between them.

Her eyes raise up and then drop back down to the- book in her lap. Steve cocks his head slightly, trying to read the title, but all he can make out is most of the word ‘ _The_ ’.

Steve watches her for a long moment and then makes up his mind. He shifts slightly and she barely looks up.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” he asks, and she _does_ look up at that, trying to school her expression into carefully neutral just a little too late.

“M’not allowed,” she mumbles, and Steve’s brows draw together slightly.

“We’re not Hydra,” he says softly, “Maybe it’s time we showed you that.”

She lowers her book, her own eyebrows twitching together before she quickly forces them to smooth back out. She’s still so _young_.

“Come on,” Steve says, jerking his head towards the door, “If you want. You can stay here, if you’d prefer,” he adds gently.

She watches them both for a long, long moment before setting her book down to the side and slowly scooting up off the bed, gray sweatpant ends just barely brushing the top of her small feet. 

Steve turns and leads Bucky out this time, who follows, the sound of small, shoed feet trailing after them after a moment.

-

The ride up is a little awkward, quiet, but the elevator doors eventually open up to the roof and they all step out, Steve and Bucky leading. They keep walking and don’t look back, don’t put any pressure on her to follow, but Steve picks up the light sound of her shoes after a moment and a pressure that’s been in his chest all week eases, just a little bit.

There’s a soft glow of clouds hovering all over the New York sky, the sun getting low on the horizon, almost completely obscured by them. It looks like it’s gonna snow soon, but not yet. 

Tony said the scans Jarvis got of her show her temperature runs higher than normal, like theirs, so she shouldn’t be feeling the cold yet either, like them, which is good. Neither him nor Bucky like the cold, and he’s kind of assuming she doesn’t, either.

So they don’t stay out too long, but long enough to let her look around, look and poke at the covered up pool, explore the chairs and tables, trot over to the railing to look out across the city. She slowly works her way around the whole perimeter of the roof, taking it all in. Steve can just see her mouth and eyes open wide before she slowly turns her head away, only blinking when the cold wind that blows up over the railing flings her hair back and dries out her eyes.

When it looks like the sky is risking opening up, they all head back into the elevator, though she looks puzzled at first before resigned, then neutral. Steve makes sure to watch her face when the doors open not to the floor she’d been staying on, but their apartment, and catches the slight widening of her eyes and the tension in her posture from being some place unfamiliar.

He and Bucky stay still, waiting, let her decide on her own what she wants to do. She doesn’t quite glance back at them, but it’s a close thing, then slowly, cautiously takes a step out.

They stay in the elevator while her eyes roam the living room, the open kitchen in the back and the floor to ceiling windows beyond. It’s just starting to snow outside.

She slowly turns to look up at them, brow and mouth set in a stubborn line.

“Is this a test?” she asks.

Steve wants to laugh.

“No,” he answers instead, smiling a little, “No. This is mine and Bucky’s home.”

Her face scrunches up just a bit, eyes narrowing while she looks between them. She says something to Bucky in Russian, the only words Steve catching being ‘target’ and ‘Alpha’. He doesn’t understand the rest, but he has an idea what she might be asking.

_Why is the predator living with the prey._

Bucky replies in the same before switching to English for the last, “You can stay here with us, instead of the cell. If you want.”

She cocks her head just slightly, still squinting at the two of them before slowly looking around again.

She slowly starts exploring the living room and little else, and ends up sitting in front of the floor to ceiling windows, watching the snow fall.

“Like when I slept,” Steve hears her say, soft and high and quiet, “But different.”

His heart twists and he grips Bucky’s hand just a little tighter, because it’s not just her Steve can picture in a cryotube, cold and locked away from the world.

\--

His eyes slide open and he stares up at the ceiling for a moment. 

Something woke him.

He slowly, carefully lifts Steve’s arm and rolls out from under it, pulling the knife out from under his pillow as he goes. He turns on the bed to gently set Steve’s arm down before standing, making his way to the door and silently moving down the hall-

Something collides with his ankle and he stumbles forward, catching himself just in time to dodge a foot to the face, moving back. He catches the next, ankle small- _too_ small in his hand, and throws her into the living room, following on near silent feet. She lands on her own, fists raised and eyes deadly in what light from the city outside reaches this far in.

He holds his own stance for a moment, left fist raised and knife held low, watching her, then, after a minute that stretches on long, slowly, very slowly eases up out of it, her eyes shifting, moving over him as he does.

“ _Why are you stopping?_ ” she asks in Russian, frowning, “ _Why are you not attacking? I tried to kill you. You are Alpha._ ” Her tongue sounds old for her age. He’s still trying to balance her body and mind in his head. It’s bad enough in his mind already, with what’s already circling the waters like sharks waiting for blood, his mistakes set to bleed.

“We did not bring you here to attack you,” he replies in English. 

Her frown tightens. “ _Why then?_ ”

He shrugs a little, holding in a sigh.

He can’t really answer that, not in a way she would understand. It doesn’t matter to her much that she’s made of them, that she’s free, or near as close to it as she’s going to get, like him. She doesn’t know what that means.

He looks towards the window, jerking his chin towards it. “What do you see?” he asks quietly. She squints a little, glancing briefly towards the windows then back. He shakes his head and she finally lets herself frown like a child and less like an assassin, the tight lines in her smooth skin easing away, looking over a little longer.

“ _Lights_ ,” she replies simply, holding her pose. He shakes his head again and her eyebrows pull together tighter, frustrated. “ _City_.” He just looks at her. Her fists tighten.

“People,” he finally answers for her, and she straightens slightly.

“ _People?_ ” she asks. He can hear the frustration and confusion in her voice. That’s a good sign. She’s breaking out of programmed responses.

“Steve’s heart covers the people of this city,” he says, and the tension in her body eases up fractionally, “His heart bleeds for people.”

“Target Priority One is...soft,” she says in English, slightly confused. He shakes his head a little.

“Steve,” he corrects, and she tenses again, “He would save anyone. They are all important to him.” She shakes her head a little and he cracks a tiny, wry smile. “I know. That’s not how it is for us.”

She watches him for a long minute before slowly lowering her fists, but stays tense, alert. She glances towards the window a little longer this time.

“People...” she trails off quietly, “I could have been anyone?”

_I could have been anyone and he would’ve done the same?_

“You’re not,” he answers, simple. Her face scrunches up a little while she tries to work that out. She looks back to him after a couple more minutes.

“You’re not?” she asks, and he nods a little. Her eyes widen a bit. She stares at him and then beyond him, down the hall. He tries not to instinctually block her line of sight of the bedroom. “Why?” she asks, looking back to him, “I don’t know you.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers quietly, “You were important the moment we both saw you floating in that tube.” Her body gives a small jerk, shoulders climbing up a bit and eyes a little wide. She looks quickly to the side, brows pulled down together.

He hears the door behind him and barely there steps, just quiet enough and far enough away that she doesn’t immediately pick them up.

“Important?” she tries out the word on her tongue, brows pulling together again, “I was taught words. Kind, funny, laugh, smile, love, hate, pain, their meanings, but they didn’t...care,” she finishes a little stiltedly. Her eyes look a little shinier in the low lighting. “I don’t know these things,” she says after a bit, voice strained. His fingers curl tighter, one around the knife hilt.

“Do you want to?” Steve’s voice asks, and her head whips back around, eyes wide. Steve slows to a stop next to him, keeping distance, eyes gentle but not overly sympathetic. Steve understands more than anyone how much sympathy can leave a friction burn against pride, if she has any. They don’t know. That’s part of the whole problem. They don’t know her.

Her eyes shift between them a few times, expression shifting through a series of surprised, confused, hopeful? Confused. He recognizes them but not as words, just as feelings he knows himself.

“You never have to see us again, if that’s what you want,” Steve continues quietly, after a minute, “You can choose now, or whenever you’re ready to.” She doesn’t say anything, just stares. “It took Bucky a while, too,” Steve adds, gently playful. 

Her eyes shift back to him and his shift away from Steve, back to hers. 

She’s putting it together, he thinks, it’s just taking a little time. She’s two ages all at once. It has to be difficult to sort out the emotions, emotions at all, especially when you don’t fully understand them.

It takes another few minutes, but eventually, slowly, she nods.

\--

Something clatters and she jerks up to sitting, eyes wide and alert, quickly adjusting to the light, body tense. She sees Alpha- Bu-...Buck-y in the...kitchen? Pushing buttons on a machine. She tenses, but all it does is make...noises.

“What is-...” she trails off, wants to never have said anything. They hurt for asking questions.

“Coffee,” Alpha- Buck-y...Bucky, answers. There is no pain, not yet ( _not ever? Can’t trust_ ). “Do you want to try it?” he asks quietly. 

“What is it,” she says more than asks. It’s easier when it’s not phrased as a question, keeps her heartbeat steady.

“A drink,” he answers, understanding. He looks towards the machine and it starts...pouring...something. A drink? “It’s hot,” he explains, “Can be made cold. Like water.” She frowns slightly. Her drinking water was never cold, though the water here has been. 

She hears more footsteps and then Priority- Ste-ve. Steve. Is walking into the room, stretching with a yawn. She frowns.

Steve is very vulnerable.

He smiles at her and her cheeks warm a little. It feels...strange. Her lips twitch before she can stop them. 

Steve’s smile stretches wider before he turns and presses his lips to Bucky’s face, then reaches for the container that the coff-ee went into, pouring it. She leans back slightly to try and see around his form. There’s steam.

“Want some?” Steve asks, turning and smiling over at her while Bucky fills his own cup. She nods after a minute, slow, and Steve nods back, reaching up into the cupboard for another mug. She crawls off the couch and cautiously walks over.

When she tries it, she makes a face at the coffee when it is black. 

She makes less of a face at the coffee when it is dark brown. 

She almost likes the taste when it is very light and a lot sweeter. 

Steve is smiling and Bucky looks...not happy, but something else. She doesn’t know the word, but his eyebrow is raised slightly and his lips are almost curved up on one side. She tries to mimic it, to see what happens, if she can understand, and he _smiles_. She doesn’t intend to mimic that, but her mouth moves, anyway.

She would have gotten punished for that before, but here, all they do is...drink coffee.

\--

Hydra never comes for her. From the look of the lab when they’d found her, though, they all come to the conclusion that she’d been left for dead with the assumption that they wouldn’t be able to get her out of the capsule in time. 

It’s been almost two weeks since then and a few days since she started staying in their apartment. She still sleeps on the couch, but...she’s slowly been getting less jumpy around them, and has been gradually eyeing them less and less suspiciously, so Steve considers that a good thing. 

She doesn’t always want to talk or be around them directly, but Steve can usually catch her watching them from a distance, around corners and from over the back of the couch, where she’s apparently taken up residence and claimed as her own. He’s more than sure Bucky catches her, too. It’s...it makes Steve’s chest feel like there’s a warm, fluffy cloud in it, like cotton candy but not quite as sweet, even while it still aches. He wants to get to _know_ her, but she still needs to get to know herself. And she still needs...

“What do you think?” Steve asks.

She frowns a bit, eyes moving down the page before darting back up it and pausing again.

Today’s a good day. She’s actually willing to _talk_ with him.

“I found one,” she says, firm, looking up with determined eyes.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, leaning in a little, but staying back just enough to not invade her personal space. They’re all still precariously working that out.

“Amara,” she says proudly, face scrunching up a bit while she repeats it, trying it out, “Ah-mahr-rah. _A-mar-a_.” She nods, decisive. They both hear footsteps and they both perk up, turning to watch Bucky walk into the room.

“You got one?” he asks, pausing, eyes shifting between the two of them and lips twitching up a bit. She unconsciously sits a little taller.

“ _Amara_ ,” she declares, proud, and Bucky smiles.

“Amara,” he tests out slow, coming to a stop and leaning his forearms on the back of the couch, tangling a set of fingers in the back of Steve’s hair. Steve smiles and tilts his head back just a little, turning his face to the side and leaning into it. “You like it?” Bucky asks her, and she nods, looking back down at the book. She closes it and sets it aside.

“I am Amara,” she declares, and Steve and Bucky smile. 

Bucky stands up from the back of the couch after a minute, wandering into the kitchen. “Dinner?” he asks, looking back while he pulls the fridge door open.

“And a movie?” Steve asks, looking from him over to Amara. She frowns slightly. 

Her expressions seem to be slowly coming out more, too, less controlled. It makes Steve breathe a little easier.

“Moov-ee?” she asks, cocking her head while she sounds it out. 

“Yeah,” Steve answers, “Moving pictures.” Her eyes widen a little at that and she looks to Bucky, who nods, setting food containers on the counter.

“Jarvis?” Steve asks, looking to the ceiling out of habit.

They wait until Bucky’s finished putting dinner together, Steve trying to stay _out_ of the kitchen (because they’ve learned from the various mistakes of him _trying_ to help), then start the movie once they’re all settled.

Steve and Bucky keep their eyes on her as the animation starts, and don’t miss her eyes widening and her mouth falling open on a bite of food.

\--

Steve scrolls down his tablet with a frown, flicking his fingertip up the screen. He selects a few more books and adds them to his cart, huffing out a sigh when he feels warm fingers slide up his hair from the back of his neck, letting them push his head forward a bit.

“Any luck?” Bucky asks, low and quiet next to his ear.

“Maybe,” Steve replies quietly, selecting a few more, “Jarvis is helping a lot. Gave me a list.” He’s been picking and choosing for the past- 

He glances at the clock in the bottom right of the screen.

-two hours, looking over each description and all of the connected reviews. He was blown away at how _many_ there were, both instructional _and_ just plain children’s stories.

Steve clicks on his little shopping cart and holds the tablet up for Bucky to see, feels Bucky lean forward a little more into his back while he looks over his shoulder. He gives a low, approving _hum_ and Steve lowers the tablet again, clicking the checkout button.

“Come on,” Bucky says after a minute, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the back of his head, “It’s time to go pick her up from Natasha.”

“I hope Nat didn’t scare her too much,” Steve half jokes, wincing a little, and Bucky snorts a laugh. 

“She’s tougher than she looks,” he replies with a small smile.

When they walk onto Nat’s floor, Nat and Amara are in the middle of- _sparring_. Steve wants to intervene, but Bucky locks their fingers together and Steve holds in a sigh, and waits.

Maybe it’s not normal, _she’s_ not normal. This is the way she connects with Natasha, and one of the ways Natasha can help her. Steve’s just having a hard time getting past her being a ‘ _child_ ’ (but is there such a thing? Among any of them? In some ways, yes; in a lot of others, no).

Amara’s eyes light up a little bit when she spots them, a relatively new change, and Natasha takes her down to the mat before slowly easing up, stepping back a foot and offering out a hand. 

Amara stares up at for a long minute before slowly taking it, letting herself be pulled.

That’s a relatively new change, too.

\--

Steve pauses in the kitchen a week later, in the middle of looking for Bucky, catches a small head silhouetted by the window and tiptoes over, leaning on his hands on the counter to get a better look over it.

Bucky and Amara are sitting side by side wrapped up in blankets, her small form next to his larger one, looking out the window, a little steam gently wafting up in front of them both. Both of their heads cock slightly in unison and they turn to look at him, two sets of eyes finding him. Bucky turns his head back to Amara and asks something low and quiet, and Amara slowly nods. Bucky looks back to him and raises the right side of his blanket up in invitation. 

Steve blinks once and slowly lowers himself down from his tiptoes back to his feet, walking around the counter quietly and over to the window. He sits down cross-legged next to Bucky, holding in a surprised sound when Bucky drapes his arm and the blanket around his shoulders and pulls him in close. Bucky offers his mug out and Steve carefully takes it, taking a sip.

_Hot chocolate. It’s good._

Steve looks down into it, the city lights barely reflected in the surface before looking over at Amara, who quickly darts her eyes away.

Steve scoots away from Bucky a little, Bucky’s arm lifting slightly to accomodate, and gestures to the space between them, raising his eyebrows in question at her.

Amara glances over out of the side of her eye, brows pulling together a little and lips almost pouting. After a few more minutes, though, she crawls over quick, blanket trailing behind her, and curls into the spot he made, wrapping herself up in her blanket and burrowing. 

Bucky’s arm resettles across Steve’s shoulders and he offers his mug down. She takes it after a minute, small hands with the strength to break bones holding it close, careful. 

She leaves her own forgotten where she left it, and they trade the mug between the three of them while they watch the city and all its lights, and the snow fall like pieces of clouds from the sky.

\--

She adopts both of their last names by her own choice a week later. 

_Amara Barnes-Rogers._

It’s a bit of a mouthful, but her cheeks flush a little when she says it and she almost looks shy, lips slowly curving up, just a tiny bit.

Her story almost ended in a lone, cold cryotube underground, but now, now it’s just beginning.

 

_Bonus:_

_Two Months Later_

“Happy birthday to you-”

“It’s too early!”

“ _Happy birthday to you_ -”

“It-”

“Happy birthday dear _Amaraaaaaaa._ ”

She crosses her arms, cheeks hot.

“ _Happy Birthday to you!_ ”

Steve and Bucky push the cake a little towards her, smiling so wide it looks like it _hurts_.

“It’s too soon,” she pouts.

“ _All these candles are going to melt wax into the cake_ ,” Steve replies, sing-song.

She _jolts_ and quickly uncurls just enough to suck in a breath and _blow_ , all of the candles going out in a quick arc.

“ _Yaaaay!_ ” They all cheer, clapping and hollering. Tony blows on something loud that almost makes her wince. Her lips twitch up even though she’s trying to keep a straight face.

“We know it’s early,” Bucky starts after a few moments.

“But we wanted you to have a first one before you had a second,” Steve finishes, both of them smiling warmer than the candles that Natasha is pulling off the cake and licking the frosting off of the bottoms of. At least, that’s what it feels like in her chest. It’s still strange, but...not bad.

Her lips slowly curve up. 

That’s still strange too, but...also not bad.

“What did you get me?” she hesitantly asks.

Steve and Bucky grin and then part, gesturing to where Thor’s pulling out a table _covered_ in bright, shiny boxes with bows on each and every one. Her eyes widen and her breath catches, and the backs of her eyes sting.

She shoves herself out of her chair and runs over to Steve and Bucky instead, jumping up and wrapping her arms around both of their necks when they bend down a bit to catch her, both holding her close.

“ _Happy birthday_ ,” the both whisper in tandem.

Warmth spills down her cheeks, and it’s strange, but she’s laughing, too.

_She’s never been this warm._


End file.
